“It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her. " "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping.
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